Time's Up
by samsstars
Summary: Harry never makes it back from the Graveyard. Cedric's framed as a traitor, and Harry's body was found instead. Now, residing in Voldemort's dungeon, what will happen to Dumbledore's Golden Boy? To the Light? Takes place during Goblet of Fire. Order of the Phoenix AU. Rated T for Content, Torture, and Language. Possible Weasley Bashing.
1. Chapter 1

Time's Up

I am not blonde. I am not currently residing on an island. I am not a millionaire. If Harry Potter were mine, I would not have to hide Draco from rabid fangirls.

Harry doesn't make it back to Hogwarts even with Voldemort distracted. What happens to the Boy-Who-Lived now? This story takes place during the Goblet of Fire.

A/N: So I know I have another story going on right now, but I wanted to do one in the Harry Potter era, with only Harry Potter Characters. Yayy! This is a 3rd person story, so no individual perspectives or thoughts.  
Draco: Well at least I'm in this one.  
Me: You don't star, but sure. You're involved enough.  
Draco: I don't like the sound of that…  
Me: You shouldn't. PUT THAT OWL DOWN, DRACO!  
Draco: Just wait until my father hears about this!  
Me: Yeah, yeah. I don't think he really wants to. You're 17. Get better comebacks.

Chapter 1: Capture

As much as Harry hated Privet Drive, he almost wished he could go back. At least his relatives weren't this sadistic. They weren't much better, but at least he had a bed.

Harry Potter was currently sitting against the stone wall, his hands chained in front of him and attached to the moldy bricks. How could he have let himself be captured? He never felt so useless, so stupid.

He sighed heavily. The hunger and thirst he was used to, he never got much at the Dursleys'. But the pain in his wrists from the shackles, the constant pain in his scars, the welts, the bruises. This was all unfamiliar. And not pleasant.

The door opened with a deafening boom, and the lanky figure of none other than Lord Voldemort filled the room. Harry nearly screamed with pain at his presence. Blood oozed into his dry mouth, easing the pain in his throat despite its metallic taste.

Voldemort smirked at the small boy huddled in the corner. "_Crucio_" he whispered, delighting in the boy's screeches and pleas. For nearly four months now he had work on the boy. Harry was cracking. They both knew it.

What Harry didn't know, was that the Light already believed him dead. Cedric's body was transfigured to look like the boy savior of the Wizarding World, Cedric himself framed as a traitor. None knew the truth but the boy chained to the wall, Lord Voldemort himself, and the Inner Circle.

A small whimper came from the thrashing boy. "Please…" he begged, "please…stop…" Harry knew he would regret the words later, but he wanted-no, needed-it to end.

The boy slouched in relief as the curse was lifted. His black hair was matted with dirt and blood. His once clear green eyes clouded and tinged with an unearthly red. Covered in cuts and bruises, one would think the boy was closer to ten than fifteen. He had been beaten. He had lost. Tears smudged the dirt and blood on his face, creating unusual patterns of clean.

Voldemort's smirk widened into a cruel smile. "Very well, Harry" he spoke the words almost kindly. "_Imperio._"

Draco: What…what did you just do?  
Me: Exactly what it looks like. Made the boy-who-lived into Voldemort's slave. Mwhahaha.  
Draco: You're more evil than the Dark Lord himself.  
Me: Why thank you, Draco.  
Draco: That was not a complement.  
Me: Please review! I solemnly swear I will try to update both stories, but school starts soon. I'll try to finish Of Remembrance and Chaos before then, but Updates might get slow.

Love to all, Samsstars


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Once again, I own nothing.

Chapter 2: The Dark Lord's Servant

To say the least, Draco was shocked. His father had brought him to this meeting saying that it was time Draco became involved. Apparently the Dark Lord had an interest in him.

Black robes billowed as every person in the room dropped into a low bow. Lord Voldemort strolled casually up to his throne, followed by none other than Harry Potter.

He was beat up, covered in blood and wearing rags that probably used to be his competitors uniform. Yet, he followed the Dark Lord complacently, sitting at the foot of his throne as a pet might.

"As some of you know," Voldemort's voice boomed in the large room, "Harry Potter was not killed that night a few months ago. He was, in fact, taken and placed in our dungeons for…conditioning."

Draco stared speechlessly at the small boy. Was this really Harry Potter? He seemed much too small, too fragile. But there was that unmistakable lightning scar. This was indeed that boy that had plagued Draco at Hogwarts for nearly four years.

Harry just sat there, his eyes glazed over. He was blissfully unaware of what was going on around him. Draco knew what it was like to be under the Imperious. But he also knew that it wouldn't last very long on Potter. He shuddered at the memory of Barty Crouch Jr. turning him into a ferret.

"Father," Draco whispered, "Harry won't stay under the imperious for long. Crouch tested it on him in class. He fought it off."

Lucius nodded, acknowledging Draco's point. "My lord," he spoke, "my son, Draco, has pointed out that Potter has previously fought off control from the imperious curse. I would suggest stronger spells before he starts to rebel."

Harry, who had been gradually winning control of his body back, heard this statement and began to panic. If they placed stronger curses on him, he's never escape. Breaking through the curse, Harry began to thrash violently and tries to run off. But now, they were expecting it.

"Now, now" Voldemort hissed, "You're such a bad boy Harry. Perhaps some discipline. _Crucio_."

Harry's screams filled the cavernous room as the curse hit him. Why wouldn't they just kill him already?

"Why not just kill him, my lord?" a female voice echoed his thoughts.

"What better way to crush the Light than to use their own hero against them? It's almost poetic justice." Voldemort cackled at his own statement, filling the room with nervous and hearty laughter. "Bellatrix," he called, releasing the cruciatus curse, "go get that potion we've been saving."

The female voice responded and heels clacking on the wooden floor indicated her retreat.

Harry couldn't move. He was in too much pain. He was too tired. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept peacefully, ate a good meal, or not been in pain. Probably before he got captured. If only he'd been able to escape.

Too quickly, Bellatrix returned. None to gently, she kicked Harry over to his back and forced him into a semi-sitting position. Tilting Harry's head, she poured the silky, blood red potion down his throat.

Harry's entire body burned. He could feel himself being burnt away. _Obey Lord Voldemort_ the voices said. His eyes went back and forth-green, red, green, red—before settling on a dull green that look nearly black. His body began to jerk uncontrollably, and Draco began to wonder if the potion was giving him a seizure. Abruptly, he stopped moving.

Small whimpers escaped from his mouth as Harry slowly curled up into fetal position. It hurt. Memories began to slip away, a large chest, much like his Hogwarts one, was growing larger with "unwanted" memories. After what seemed like an eternity, the box locked itself and disappeared altogether from his mind.

* * *

Harry Potter sat up, blinking slowly as he gained his bearings. He must have collapsed again from the pain in his scar. Black clad feet below black robes moved closer, their faces covered by silver skull masks.

Frowning, Harry stood up and faced the front of the room. Lord Voldemort sat calmly on his throne, assessing Harry's reaction.

A pale blonde with a pinched face leaned out around the group. He looked familiar, but Harry couldn't quite place it.

Suddenly, Harry remembered where he was and who all these people were. He scowled darkly at the memories. They were blurry yes, but he could remember enough. He was in Lord Voldemort's main chambers at the recently renovated Riddle Manor, one of the most well protected Wizarding houses in the world. He had collapsed during a Death Eater meeting, explaining the masks and robes.

A worried looking Bellatrix stood a few feet away, as though hesitant to touch him. Harry understood considering everything that had happened.

Harry took a wobbly step forward before bowing lightly. The entire room was stunned, save Lord Voldemort. "I am home," he said, smirking, "Father."

Draco: Oh My Gods. You _are_ evil.  
Me: *shrugs* It comes with the territory, I guess. Survival technique.  
Draco: That makes no sense...  
Me: Deal with it.  
Draco: Fine! Review the stupid story before she curses me. And while you're at it, please get me out of here.  
Me: Ignore that last part! We're both very happy here! Imperio!

Love, Samsstars


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Harry backstory time! This is how Harry views life under the potion. Or was he freed from it? XD I feel really evil.  
Draco: You _are_ evil.  
Me: Oh shut it. I still own nothing.  
Draco: Hence my being here.  
Me: I _said_ Shut it.

Chapter 3: Childhood memories

Harry did _not _have a happy childhood. When he thought back, he remembered the vile cupboard that his relatives shoved him into for 5 years. The small, cramped room still haunted his nightmares much to Harry's dismay.

Harry didn't really mind the dark. Perhaps that's why he had such a strong affinity for the Dark Arts. What he minded was the awful Dursleys treatment of him. Harry knew he didn't deserve to be kicked and punched and whipped. He didn't deserve to have Aunt Petunia dump strange concoctions down his throat when he said he felt ill. He knew it deep down inside of him, but only when he met Father did he realize it.

At age 6, Harry was used to doing everything that the Dursleys asked without water, food, or even a thank you. Harry hardly even recognized his name. He was only addressed as _boy_ or _freak_. When he thought about his parents, all he felt was a deep, scarring hatred. Why would they leave him with these _awful_ people? What kind of parents died and left their kid to be beaten on a daily basis?

To be frank, Harry had given up. He was resigned to that fact that he would most likely become a drunken bum, just like father. Harry was never sent to school, never learned to read, write, or add. While Dudley came home and boasted about his feats, Harry would sit miserably in his cupboard, trying to make sense of what Dudley was saying.

One day, Father stormed in. Aunt Petunia started screaming and trying to hide her beach ball of a son behind her stick-like frame. Uncle Vernon, however, was stupid enough to challenge the Dark Lord, with a muggle weapon no less. Within the minute, all three were dead.

Hearing the thumps of three bodies left young Harry with mixed feelings. As far as he knew, this strange man didn't know Harry was here. He might be safe, but he wanted to go out and thank the man who got rid of his tormentors. Only, he thought he might be killed too.

Loud footsteps came closer to the cupboard, a soft hissing and slithering coming along, slightly behind. Harry whimpered pathetically as he covered his eyes from the barrage of bright light. Seeing the broken, beaten boy filled the man before him with an unfamiliar feeling.

Lord Voldemort stood at the entrance to a cupboard where a young boy curled himself into as tiny a ball he could manage. Wrinkling his non-existent nose, he stared at the small frame in disgust. But there was something else there too. A sort of pity.

"Harry Potter," the voice sneered.

Harry didn't respond. Was this man addressing him? He was the only other one here…he vaguely remembered someone calling him Harry once upon a time. Slowly, he looked up at the man, startled by his snake-like features.

"P…please don't hit me, sir. I promise I'll be good."

If it was possible, the strange, nose-less man nearly snorted. "I won't hit you."

"R-really?" Hope filled his wide, emerald eyes.

"Yes. Now come. I don't have long." The tall man stalked towards the door. "Well?"

"Yes, sir…" Harry responded, trying to move his legs with little success.

Sighing, the strange man pulled out a stick and made Harry float over to him. Shocked, Harry was unable to respond. He knew the Dursleys would be furious about this, but they were dead now, right?

Harry was in awe of this new man. With another flick, Harry's glasses were fixed. Another healed all the little cuts and bruises. After a bit, Harry swallowed this weird, bad-tasting, blue "potion" that made all the pain go away. A red one made him fall asleep.

When Harry next woke, he was surprisingly pain free. For the first time in, well, forever, Harry didn't ache when he tried to move. It was nice. And this weird man did this…without being asked. Harry never knew anyone who would do that. Except sometimes Uncle Vernon would put a Band-Aid on Dudley when he got a scrape. Did that make this man his Father?

As he was contemplating, the door swung open revealing the man in question. Harry looked up at him with renewed curiosity. "Sir? Are…are you my father?"

The man looked slightly surprised, but quickly wiped his face clean. "If that is what you wish to call me, then so be it."

Harry took that as a positive, and for the next four years, he spent his days with his Father. Then, on his tenth birthday, none other than Dumbledore took him away.

Birthdays were never a large affair for Harry and his Father, but they were celebrated to an extent, a few presents given and a nice cake to eat, since Harry had never celebrated his birthday with the Dursleys.

For his tenth birthday, Voldemort took Harry to get his own familiar. Placing strong glamours on them both, they Apparated to Diagon Alley and marched straight to Eeylops.

In awe of the sheer number of creatures in the shop, Harry had a very hard time deciding what he wanted. He wanted an owl, but he always loved Nagini, his Father's familiar. After serious contemplation, Harry decided on a bright green snake with black patterns along its back.

In the confusion of the street, Harry was quickly separated from Voldemort. He had been absorbed in staring at the new broomstick—A Cleansweep 700—in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Harry began to panic. He couldn't find his Father, and all he had done was succeeded in getting himself _more_ lost. When he got back to Father…well, he hoped he got back to Father.

The glamour was beginning to fade from Harry, his hair darkening, his skin becoming paler. Unfortunately for the young boy, Albus Dumbledore happened to be in Diagon Alley as well.

Close to tears, Harry didn't notice when the glamour wore off. He didn't notice as he bumped into different witches and wizards. He didn't take note of anything until strong hands grabbed his shoulders and he felt a squeezing sensation in his gut.

This wasn't his Father. Where was this man taking him?

Me: Thank you for all the Favorites and Follows! Please leave reviews as well!  
Draco: WAIT. I'm only in it for ONE SCENE?  
Me: Get over yourself Dray. This is Chapter 3. There are plenty more chances for you to rat out and torture Harry.  
Draco: Well hurry up and write them.  
Me: Eager, aren't you? Worried for our dear hero?  
Draco: Wh-What? Worried? You're even more insane than I thought.  
Me: Thank you.  
Draco: ...That...that wasn't a compliment...

Love, Samsstars  
Until Next time!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: And onto chapter four! I still own nothing.

Chapter 4: Harry's Mission

Harry entered his Father's chambers. It was cavernous, draped with emerald green and sparkling silver. The main piece in the room was an intimidating obsidian throne-like chair. Nagini curled around the base, like a dog at its masters feet.

Bowing, Harry addressed his Father. "You summoned me?"

"Yes," was the curt response. "There is a Death Eater within our ranks who has betrayed me. In fact, I believe he is the one who informed Dumbledore of your location that day four years ago."

Harry scowled. At last, he would be able to exact his revenge on the man who separated him from his Father and forced him into humiliation. "What is his name, Father?"

"There were very few who knew of our excursion that day. Bellatrix, Lucius, and Severus."

"Yes, Father, I am aware of that," Harry was frowning. Did one of them really betray his Father? They were all inner circle Death Eaters…

"I know you are Harry. I think it's time we paid our dear Potions Master a little visit."

Harry stiffened. Snape wasn't nice to him by any means at Hogwarts, but to think that he was a spy for Dumbledore! That Snape himself turned Harry over to that old coot…it made Harry's blood boil.

"No need, Father. I can make this trip alone. I think it's time I thank my Professor for all of his…kindness."

Voldemort smirked. "Of course. I trust you can handle this on your own."

Harry nodded, and strode from the room. Voldemort gave him the address where he could find Snape—and the floo password. Quickly changing into black robes, Harry snatched a handful of floo powder and leapt into the green flames.

To say that Severus Snape was surprised to see Harry Potter stumble out of his fireplace would have been the understatement of the century. The normally stoic professor was nearly shaking from the look of hatred in Potter's eyes.

"Potter? What are you doing here?" Snape cursed himself for his ever so slightly unsteady voice. "Does Dumbledore know you're alive?"

Harry snarled. "I think you know very well what I'm doing here _Professor_."

Snape frowned, drawing his wand. Something was off. This wasn't the same Harry. "Potter, what the bloody hell are you talking about?"

He didn't respond. Harry continued to stalk towards the dark man, drawing his wand and pointing it straight at his chest. "_CRUCIO!_"

The force behind the spell sent the Potions Master flying towards the back wall where he crumpled in a heap; writhing from an intense pain he had never felt the like of before.

"You won't receive a slow death, Snape. No, you don't deserve that. Fucking spy." Harry spat on the ground. "You're disgusting, you know that? Running from one master to the next, so _eager_ to display you abilities."

Snape was released from the curse only to have it hit him again. "You chose the wrong side, Snape. I won't stop until Dumbledore's dead."

Severus's earlier suspicions were right. Something had happened to Harry. Something really bad. And Snape had a sinking feeling he wouldn't be able to relay that message to anyone.

"You see, when Father came for me that night in the graveyard, he helped me remember everything." Harry spat on Snape's face as he knelt next to him. "That he took me from those awful muggles, he taught me how to read, how to write, about _magic_."

Snape didn't have to energy to move, he lay there as Harry hissed at him, sounding so angry, he might as well have been speaking in parseltounge. "Then you just _had_ to go skipping off to that muggle-loving old coot and spill it all, didn't you? It's _your_ _fault_ I was taken from Father that day. And I'm afraid you're not going to be able to live to regret it."

A vibrant green snake uncoiled itself from underneath Harry's robes, sliding over his shoulder, poised to strike the older man. Harry smirked in satisfaction. "You see, Ereshkigal here has a very deadly poison. She's named for the Babylonian lady of the underworld. Her poison will kill you over the course of 24 hours. There is no cure, which I am quite happy for. Now, if anyone _does_ find you before you die, I suppose I'm lucky that the first thing you lose will be your speech."

Snape was horrified. He knew he didn't treat the boy right at Hogwarts, but this…this was a whole new level and he was helpless to stop it. Gulping heavily, Snape braced himself for death. He always knew he would be found out, but he had hoped his death would be quick and painless. Sharp fangs dug into his neck and Snape screamed. The bite was Death itself.

"Goodbye, Snape. I hope you rot." And the boy disappeared in a flash of green, leaving his ex-potions professor on the floor to face his certain death.

Me: Yay evil Harry!  
Draco: Yeah, whatever. You just killed my godfather and I'M STILL NOT IN THIS DAMN STORY.  
Me: Draco! Language! I'll wash your mouth out with soap! *brandishes bar of soap*  
Draco: Ok...ok...calm down...Let's put the soap away...  
Me: Please review! Thank you so much for the Favs and Follows! I siriusly (lol...HP jokes.) love you all!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Still own nothing. It's quite disappointing.

Chapter 5: Godfathers and Friendships

No one officially recognized Snape's death among the Death Eaters. There was great speculation among the rest of the Wizarding World about the late potions master, however.

"Found dead the next morning by none other than Dumbledore! They say his House elf fetched him."

"The initials HP were etched into wall above his head."

"No one can identify the cause of death."

"What will happen to Hogwarts now?"

Harry, on the other hand, was quite pleased with himself. Despite being publicly thought of as dead, he still managed to throw everything into turmoil. Not any average wizard could do that. He continued to execute missions for his father, getting rid of this traitor or that one, all in the same manor.

People began speculating on this mysterious HP. Of course, Harry Potter was mentioned, how could he not be? But whenever he came up, a depression filled the room with the thought of the Dark Lord's encroaching influence. The war was as good as lost unless Harry was to miraculously come back to life.

Only Dumbledore had his doubts and he kept those to himself, thank you very much. No one else knew what he was thinking. That the body he found that night had not, in fact, been Harry Potter, but Cedric Diggory. That the bravest of Lions was still alive, and probably in a dungeon. If only he knew the entire truth. He might have acted sooner.

Harry continued to plot and plan. He took midnight trips to Knockturn Alley, securing items from street hags and shops under well-placed disguises. All for his revenge on the muggle-loving bastard, Albus Dumbledore.

Harry didn't particularly care whether or not the world thought him dead. It was much easier to move now that people weren't on the lookout for him, but he wasn't going out of his way to conceal himself, hence the initials HP on the scenes of every crime he committed. Honestly, Harry was slightly surprised no one had figured it out yet.

There was a soft rap on his door. "Come in," Harry called, expecting his father. He was quite surprised when Draco Malfoy walked in instead. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Look, Potter. I know we haven't gotten along well in the past, and I most certainly don't want to be your friend, but why Snape?"

"My reasons are my own. Snape was a fucking traitor and a turncoat. He deserved the cowards death he got." Harry scowled at the paper in front of him as though it would make this annoyance go away.

Malfoy walked further into Harry's room, despite Harry's obvious dismay at this. "I get it, but Snape was my godfather. He was the head of Slytherin house. I was closer to him than anyone could ever hope to be. You killed my best friend. I want your reasoning, Potter. And I won't take no for an answer."

"Malfoy, you're a god damned spoiled brat, you know that?"

Draco pretended to look offended. "Me? Well, most certainly not, Potter. My parents do it of their own volition. Malfoys only deserve the best, you know."

Harry snorted. "Sure, Malfoy. Snape was a traitor. He betrayed Father for that old coot. Father told me he was also the reason I was dragged away nearly five years ago."

Draco looked slightly confused, but he covered it well. One part of that story made sense. But Harry looked so sad…was the second part really true as well?

"Look, Potter. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad…"

"Well, this is a sight to behold. A Malfoy apologizing. I could get used to this."

"Shut it, Potter. If we're going to be living in the same house, you could at least _try_ to be civil."

Harry chortled. "Civil? So long as you are, I will be. I was a stupid Gryffindor under whatever Dumbledore did before. Maybe we could sort of start over. Not as friends—you're still an arrogant, spoiled, little prick—but not as enemies."

"That seems fair. Though I'm ditching you if you ever show those stupid tendencies again. And I'm not an arrogant, spoiled prick as you so put it."

"Uh, yes you are, Malfoy."

"I am not!"

"Fine. You're a vain, self-obsessed douchebag."

"That's not any better, Potter. Though while we're at it, you're not so humble yourself. 'Oh look. I'm the great Harry Potter! Look at me! I'm so wonderful!'"

They both started laughing.

"Ok. I probably was that bad. But you're not a pile of roses either. We both admit our faults and call it a truce?"

"Deal."

Draco: Ha! I'm in this one!  
Me: Yes, I noticed that. Especially since I wrote it.  
Draco: Well, yeah...But why do I have to be friends with Potter?  
Me: Not friends. Just not enemies. At least for now. AND NO THIS IS NOT A DRARRY FIC.  
Draco: Well thank the gods for that, at least. But wait until my father hears about what your making me do.  
Me: Harry's the Dark Lord's heir/son/thing. He'd probably be quite annoyed that you're complaining.  
Draco: Well...that's just a minor detail.  
Me: Not really. Well, all you wonderful people, please review!

Until next time! Samsstars (and Draco)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Ok, so I'm going to try to write longer chapters, but they make take a bit more time. Especially since school starts up soon, I may start updating closer to a few times a week. Still own nothing L

Chapter 6: Not Exactly Enemies

Albus Dumbledore was not happy. Not only had his one connection to Lord Voldemort died—leaving him with a very short amount of time to find a new Potions Master—people crucial to the discovery of the Dark Lord's location were killed as well. All by this mysterious HP.

In his worst nightmares, he saw this killer. The one who so cruelly and coldly murdered betrayers of Lord Voldemort. He only could see one person in these: Harry Potter. But he dared not let himself believe it. For, even though that body hadn't been Harry's, if it really was him behind all this, all hope truly was lost. For, whether or not he could be saved, he would still be found guilty for his crimes.

By this time, Dumbledore could only assume that if his fears were indeed correct—and to his dismay, they always had been before—then the innocent 14-year-old Harry no longer existed. He was mostly likely a Death Eater, past the point of redemption no matter what means they tried. The ministry showed no mercy towards the followers of You-Know-Who.

There was only a week left until the school year began, until new and old faces alike filed into the Great Hall awaiting a fun and exciting year. But even Dumbledore knew that loss was imminent. Without Harry Potter, all was lost. And what good would an evil Harry Potter do? Or one in Azkaban for that matter.

Fawkes crowed softly from his perch, trying to soothe the aging headmaster. Dumbledore, however, was lost in his thoughts. He knew that his end was near. He could only hope that it wouldn't be by the one everyone placed his or her hopes in.

Harry was extremely bored. Father didn't have any missions for him, Draco was off getting his school things, and Harry was stuck in the manor with absolutely _nothing_ to do.

He couldn't go outside—the ministry might be spying on the Malfoy Manor—he couldn't go into the library—Father was working in there—he couldn't play with his toys—they were all for ten-year-olds—and he couldn't ride his broomstick in the house (he tried it once and got into serious trouble).

So Harry was lying on his emerald green and silver bed, having nothing better to do than stare at the ceiling. Ereshkigal tried her best to entertain the boy, but, as winter was slowly approaching, she grew tired quickly. Harry sighed heavily wishing there were _something_ he could do. At least something other than stare at the ceiling, it was horribly boring and not at all productive.

Finally, Harry decided that he at least needed to get off his bed. Sliding off of the silken covers, Harry plodded towards the door and stalked the hallways instead. It wasn't much more productive or entertaining, but it was something different.

Harry was debating the pros and cons of trying to fly him broom in the house again when he noticed an oddly shaped door. It was a mixture of ebony and mahogany, crossed with iron bars. The door almost caved in on itself, bending down in the middle instead of curving upwards.

As he was reaching for the door, Harry heard his father's voice echoing down the hallway. "Harry! There's another mission. Come quickly."

Harry cast one last furtive glance at the strange door and left to go meet his father.

Me: ok, so I know it's short, but I couldn't think of anything else to add. Besides, all my ideas are getting boring or gruesome. I'm trying to think of a way to speed it up, and I'm thinking of a time-skip, but I'm trying to include more crucial details. Just give me some time and I'll work it out.  
Draco: She's just stalling.  
Me: You're just spiteful because my next story doesn't have you in it. By the way, CHECK OUT "MY LIFE IN THE UNDERWORLD" it's a PJO fanfic and I'll be uploading the first chapter soon (If not today). I'm not going to take a break from "TIME'S UP" But i need to sort out somethings before the next chapter is posted.

Love to all, Samsstars

PLEASE REVIEW (Check out my other story as well. I don't really like it, I feel it's kind of rushed, but what's your opinion?)


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: So I think I managed to tie this all together quite nicely. Please don't hate me for what lies ahead. I don't own anything, which is why I can do this XD

Chapter 7: Capture

To say that Harry was pissed at his Father would have been a huge understatement. Not only would he not say what was behind that stupid door, ("it's not important") he sent Harry on a stupidly dangerous mission to kill yet another stupid idiot guy. This time it was Sirius Black.

Not that anyone would care if he were dead or not; the entire world still believed he was guilty of killing 12 muggles and a good-for-nothing wizard. In Harry's opinion, the man should have been given an award for ridding the stupid world of a few more stupid muggles. The only major problem was that no one had any idea where Black was hiding. Fan-freaking-tastic.

So there he was, kicking stones on the street in some stupid random town in a poorly done glamour. Harry didn't see what was the problem if the Wizarding World knew he was alive, but then again, he didn't count in Dumbledore. Soon after Harry arrived in the village—where there had been "sightings" of Black—a member of the Order, who, of course, reported this to Albus Dumbledore, saw him.

So, Dumbledore quickly assembled a small group (including Sirius Black) and, once they were outside the boundaries of Hogwarts, Apparated to the town. Maneuvering the streets with surprising agility for the rag-tag group, they quickly noticed the magic running off of a seemingly innocent boy.

Yet, it was all too easy to see through. The lack of effort put into the charm clearly showed in the changing hair colors—black, yellow, an ugly sort of brown—and eyes, which were still the same startling green, if not the slightest bit duller. Harry had taken no notice of the group that was slowly approaching him until Ereshkigal hissed a warning in his ear.

Head snapping up, an unearthly glare settled on the features of the small boy, the glamour completely disappearing. To the surprise of the unwanted intruders, a cruel smirk spread across Harry's face; one eerily reminiscent of one Tom Marvolo Riddle. Whipping out his wand, Harry began casting hexes without any hesitation.

"Well, would you look at this!" He laughed coldly, "My prey has so graciously assembled in one easy-to-kill group. I suppose I should thank you, but I won't. Ereshkigal." On cue, the patterned snake dropped unceremoniously from Harry's robes and slid towards the group.

The five men were thunderstruck. How could Harry have changed so much? Sirius was the first to respond.

"Harry," he pleaded, "Please, listen to me. We don't know what happened…"

Harry cut him off. "Of course you don't _Black_. You were too absorbed in everything revolving around my parents to even _assume_ that I could have been anything more than a mini-James."

"Harry that's not—"

"DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Harry roared at the older man. "YOU NEVER EVEN THOUGHT THAT PERHAPS I COULD HAVE BEEN DIFFERENT! THAT I COULD HAVE HAD MY OWN THOUGHTS! THAT I WASN'T DUMBLEDORE'S PUPPET!"

Sirius flinched. Dumbledore stood towards the back, the everlasting twinkle gone from his eyes. Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Alastor Moody all had their wands out, trained on the screaming teen. No one seemed to want to be the one to attack him though.

Harry's outburst had caused them all to forget about the snake, they only remembered when there was a flash of green and Kingsley Shacklebolt collapsed unceremoniously to the ground. The large man was defenseless against the poison that was slowly invading his system. They all knew, no matter how hard they tried, that no antidote could be found or made within the time he had left.

Hiding their remorse for the dying man, the group turned back to Harry, a new resolve in their wands. None of them wanted to do this of course, but better them than the ministry. There was no hope for Harry Potter now.

Harry let the first curse fly. The sickly green light shocked them all. Then again, this wasn't the Harry they knew. Remus barely dodged the curse that had been directed at him, retaliating with a stunning spell. Harry threw up a shield with ease, looking bored with the whole situation.

He hadn't noticed Sirius Black slowly move away from the group, behind Harry, until he shouted his spell. Turning, Harry saw the bright red light speeding towards him and knew that there was no way he could bring up his shield in time. He didn't have another thought or reaction as the red light hit him, sending the boy into a troubled oblivion.

A/N: sorry for the long wait. I've actually had this done for a few days and then my computer shut down, so I forgot to reopen the document. hehehe. Thank you for all the follows and favorites! I seriously (siriusly) love you guys! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review. If you do, I'll make Draco wear a tutu and dance for you. While delivering cookies.  
Draco: WHAT? I did not agree to this!  
Me: Shut up.

Till next time! Samsstars


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